


Sepulcher

by Morpheus626



Series: Lee's Rock/Queentober 2020 [9]
Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Animal Death, HIV/AIDS, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:14:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26904208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morpheus626/pseuds/Morpheus626
Summary: *synonym for mausoleum, or any other similar stone-based burial chamber. But it’s a pretty word, so I went with that one in particular lol.Randomly assigned lad for this prompt: FreddieSynopsis: Freddie and Jim, the attempted saving of a kitten in the neighborhood, life, and death.TW: animal death (no gore or major details), and discussions of AIDS treatment (mention of AZT.)While I do mention their diagnoses, this is set in an AU I’ve informally deemed the Healthy 90s (aka the meds are working, and will keep working, and while treatment might be a bumpy road, everyone is staying alive.)Ngl, I did nearly make myself cry writing this, as a warning lol.
Relationships: Jim Hutton/Freddie Mercury
Series: Lee's Rock/Queentober 2020 [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1950265
Comments: 1
Kudos: 17
Collections: Dork Lovers Server Challenges





	Sepulcher

“It’s ready,” Jim stood in the back doorway, work gloves still on and bits of dirt on his jeans. “I can carry him out, if-” 

“No,” Freddie interrupted gently. “I’ve got him.” 

The kitten was small. Probably the runt of his litter, wherever they were. They had finally caught him after days of trying to watch over him, give him food, as he darted and hid by parked cars on the street. 

The vet had reminded them that all of this was a factor in his not surviving. Who knew how long he had been wandering alone, after all. It was no one’s fault (except perhaps that of the original owner, for not keeping the kitten safe.) They’d done everything they could, and had done it all right. 

Sometimes, all the good and right effort in the world wasn’t enough. 

They’d been lucky enough not to have lost any cats since they’d been together, until now, of course. But that meant they hadn’t any sort of plan as to how to deal with the situation. 

The conclusion was quickly reached that they would allot a corner of the back garden as a cat cemetery, with a cat-sized mausoleum (with room for more than just the kitten, though neither of them liked thinking about that eventual day when it might be filled with any other occupants.) 

Freddie would have been fine with contracting the construction of the mausoleum out, so as not to add any extra work for Jim in the garden. 

But he was much happier when Jim not only volunteered, but insisted on building it himself. It would be a task, but then again, how often did most people learn stone-working for the sole purpose of constructing a cat mausoleum?

As they stepped out into the garden, the kitten safe in a tiny metal and wooden reinforced coffin (also built by Jim, who had based it off of designs for human coffins that were meant specifically for mausoleums), it was clear Jim had been the only man for this job. 

The mausoleum was just big enough for both of them to kneel in, if necessary, but it wasn’t overly obtrusive to the rest of the garden. Carefully and painstakingly carved cat paws decorated the top and bottom edges of it, with hearts in between them. 

“It’s beautiful,” Freddie said softly, and gave Jim a quick kiss. Later, after they were both a bit less emotional, he would compliment him even more. 

Because he really did deserve every kind word Freddie could offer in regards to it. The granite they’d bought was no easy material to work with, under a time crunch, but Jim hadn’t been one bit bothered, and had made an absolute work of art. 

The kitten had been kept in a freezer installed outside the very day he’d passed, but they were mindful of time now, and kept on to the mausoleum. 

Inside it, Freddie nearly asked which ledge was meant for the kitten. 

Then he saw it. A tiny, polished golden nameplate on one ledge that simply read ‘Dear Kitten’ since he hadn’t lived long enough to be named by them definitively. 

That was the final thing that broke him into tears, even as he set the coffin down on the ledge, crawled back out, and let Jim close and lock the small iron-barred door of the mausoleum. 

It was done, over. But neither of them were ready to go back inside just yet. 

“There was nothing else we could have done for him,” Jim said, but his voice cracked on the last word, and he let Freddie pull him close as he sat beside him on the grass. 

“I know,” Freddie said, brushing aside tears. “It was his time. Nothing more could or should have been done about it. God, or whoever is out there, wanted him more than we did.”

The echoing of his mother’s words in regards to death and Zoroastrian belief was bittersweet. True as the words might have been, they made it no easier to put aside the sound of the kitten’s final breath, that had been on repeat in both of their minds for days. 

“Whenever we go,” Freddie said, after a few moments of only crying and sniffling from both of them. “I say we plan to look after any cats there. In whatever or wherever the afterlife ends up being.” 

“That’s the only bit of planning about death I think I can look forward to,” Jim said. “But we aren’t going anywhere, not anytime soon. Our kitten friend will have to wait for us.” 

Their victory for their health thus far was an uneasy one. They weren’t well, exactly, or back to what they had been pre-symptoms of the disease. But the AZT regimen, along with some other drugs, seemed to be working for now at least.

And maybe, somehow, their own positivity could help a little. 

“You’re right,” Freddie said. “I think it’ll be a long wait for him. But cats don’t mind things like that. He’ll nap and play, and be ready to greet us when we finally make it out there.” 

A soft thunk at one of the back windows caught their attention.

There, stood up against the glass, was Delilah. She pawed at it, her mouth open in an inaudible but clearly impatient meow.

“Well. Most cats don’t mind waiting,” Freddie amended with small smile. “Should probably go back in, before they learn how to lock us out of the house.”

They walked hand-in-hand back to the house, giggling as they opened the back door to Delilah’s now-audible and very loud mews, that seemed to be asking so clearly why they had been outside without her or any of the other cats for such a terribly long fifteen minutes. 

Death, or whatever gods were out there, would simply have to wait for them. There was too much life to live yet. 


End file.
